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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28209600">Crossroads</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chankapaana/pseuds/chankapaana'>chankapaana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Johnny's Entertainment, NEWS (Japan Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Gen, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicide, Violence, mentions of drug use</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:02:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28209600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chankapaana/pseuds/chankapaana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shige always believed that it would be years until he would become Chairman of the Niijima Clan, until his grandfather, father, and uncle are murdered in quick succession. This means that he is both next in line for the position of head of Japan's largest yakuza syndicate and next to be murdered. Enter Nishikido, his new personal bodyguard and constant companion as he awaits the ceremony that will officially elect him Chairman—if he can stay alive until then.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>JE Secret Santa</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crossroads</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            Anonymous in the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Je_SecretSanta">Je_SecretSanta</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <strong>Prompt:</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Character A is a soon-to-be mob leader. Character B, a person that apparently is mute, gets to become his bodyguard.<br/>In a world that both of them despite, they can only rely on each other.</p><p>(preferably a ryo-shige, but I'm up for every pair).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s a long way to hell, and an even longer road to the top of the clan.</p><p>Or so Shige had believed, until his grandfather, then his father, then his uncle, were plucked violently from the filthy streets of Shinjuku: his grandfather in the middle of an empty hostess club in the daytime, his father in the dingy back alley behind the spa and Korean barbeque restaurant just before sunrise, and his uncle right on the steps of Inari-kio Shrine in the middle of the night, steps away from where his mistress runs a floral arrangement store. Short work—two or three months between each assassination, different murder weapons, neat and quiet jobs with nary a witness.</p><p>So neat, in fact, that the culprits have to be the Seiryū Alliance, looking to expand northward from their sprawling holdings in Shinagawa. After all, the real money is in Ōkubo, where the international dealings are plentiful and the cops sly enough to look the other way for the right price. At least that’s what Captain Jōshima suggests at his uncle’s funeral, the most obvious choice to Shige’s ears, barely perceptible against the deafening sound of pouring rain in late June, before stepping away to pay his respects at the altar. The humidity is choking, damp air and incense thick in their noses as Shige greets each patriarch and lieutenant from their subsidiary families who had come to offer their condolences. Some are wrapped in smug self-satisfaction; Shige makes a note of their trembling hands, the glee barely masked behind their gruff condolences.</p><p>“Young Katō,” the old patriarch of the Kamiya family says to him, his gold tooth glinting coldly in the dim light. “Your family has come a long way since Hiroshima. I am sure you will be able to live up to your grandfather’s legacy.”</p><p>“Thank you, Kamiya-san,” Shige bows, and Kamiya claps a hand on his shoulder. It is firm, unyielding—heavy and menacing.</p><p>“Now, now, is that any way for the incoming sixth head of the great Niijima Clan to act? To bow to a lowly subsidiary family?” Kamiya chuckles as Shige raises his head. “Know your place, boy.”</p><p>“Our family and yours have been indebted to each other for many decades, and I appreciate that you have again taken the time to mourn with us,” Shige responds evenly, looking Kamiya straight in the eye. There, he finds little sorrow.</p><p>He knows the stories; Kamiya and his grandfather had been like brothers growing up after the war, long before the clan had expanded to Tokyo, but Kamiya had only become the head of his family by luck—a boating accident killed his older brother, and as a relatively low-ranking family they had not counted on having their second son take over. In the eighties, despite the economic boom, Kamiya proved to be a weak and predictable leader, and so in an act of goodwill his grandfather had carefully set them up so that Kamiya family would not be able to lose control of Onomichi. Yet the old Kamiya patriarch had always been bitter that, when expanding eastward, Niijima Shunji had left the Kamiya clan dawdling in the boonies, destitute compared to the more powerful—and more loyal—families in Hiroshima. The Kamiyas have little real power now, mostly playing bully with fishermen and local business owners on the island. Yet Kamiya has come to each and every funeral as an exaggerated gesture of loyalty, still hoping for a chance to squirrel his way up the ladder to the main branch of the Niijima Clan.</p><p>“I always enjoyed my summer visits to Onomichi before we came to Tokyo. Is your son well?” Kamiya Tatsuhiko, despite his name, has neither the fierceness of a dragon nor the grace of the ancient youths. Over the years his physical stature had gone from scrawny to lanky, but Shige had always thought his emotional growth had stalled around puberty. Last time they met—years ago, now—Tatsuhiko was still was quick to fists and easily distracted, his overinflated pride and intimidation the only things he was capable of imparting upon the world.</p><p>“Useless as usual,” Kamiya spits, only half-joking. “If only he had gone to college like you and learned something instead of crawling the streets chasing the same tail each night. Of course, I’m sure you’ll be able to put that law degree to good use now that you’ll have, ah, increased dealings with the other side of the law.”</p><p>“Surely your son would be a better Chairman than I,” Shige bites back. “Perhaps he’s learned something in the streets that I could not have in the classroom. I’ve heard he’s gotten awfully comfortable shaking down the local fishermen for spare change. I could never do that.”</p><p>Kamiya’s eyes flash with shame—his clan is barely holding on financially and he has been far too prideful to send his son to learn the trade with any of the nearby subsidiary families in Hiroshima, or even ask if the Niijima Clan would take him on in Tokyo. He grits his teeth and turns his head away, fixing it on the portrait of Shige’s uncle. “No, you could not. Excuse me, young Katō. I must pay my respects to your uncle and then head back to Hiroshima.” Kamiya bows, more sharply this time.</p><p>“Yes, thank you,” Shige lowers his head again as Kamiya moves toward the altar. His uncle had been so courteous to Kamiya at his father’s funeral, but Shige has no time for petty political back-and-forth with their subsidiary families, not until his position is truly secure.</p><p>The next family to arrive has always been unshakingly loyal; the Morioka matriarch offers traditional condolences but makes it a point to repledge her family’s loyalty to Shige himself. The next is anxious, has been since Shige’s mother married a member of a subsidiary family and merged the Niijima Clan’s sprawling network with the capital enterprise of the Katō family, but Shige knows there is no need to worry about them in the grand scheme of things. And so, Shige goes on, shaking hands and listening to their sympathies, connecting all the dots of these families in the giant constellation of the Niijima clan that has always been his future, his fate, the invariable final stop of his life.</p><p>Well, only if he can keep it for long enough to officially inherit the position.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>There’s an empty process to the advancement to Chairman, but tradition dictates that it must take place. More than forty-nine days after the death of the previous Chairman, a male member of each of the one hundred and twenty-eight primary families in the clan must come to the headquarters on the same evening and cast their ballots for the next chairman. It’s entirely ritual—Shige’s not even sure that they look at the names written on the papers—and dissent is rare. As long as there has been a clear line of inheritance, it matters more that a member from every last family shows up. Turnout for his father had been quick, almost immediately after the waiting period. His uncle’s succession had taken longer, as the clan reeled from the short turnaround, and he had barely taken up the official title when he had been found dead. Shige’s not sure how long he’ll hang in limbo, especially as the rankled families drop their dealings yet again to elect the youngest male member of the Niijima family to the chairmanship.</p><p>The sooner, the better, the safer, and the most stable. But even Shige has little faith in himself—although his grandfather and father had carefully raised him to be ready to take up the position, he has little real experience in the day-to-day dealings of the vast network of families, and expected at least another twenty years before he had to inherit the fates of thirty-some thousand members. He’s not the popular choice either, but with his uncle, the last Niijima male heir, dead and his mother bedridden with grief from losing her father, husband, and brother in short order, there is no one left but Shige.</p><p>Which also means he’s a target, and on that rainy night after the vigil, Shige banishes his bodyguards to the entry hall and returns to his room to find Takizawa standing outside of it, looking contemplative.</p><p>“Captain,” Shige lowers his head in deference.</p><p>“No bowing,” Takizawa reprimands him. “Although it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth that I’ll never see the crown of your head again.”</p><p>“Not until you find me lying dead in the streets like my family,” Shige responds, chuckling. Takizawa grins and holds out a pack of cigarettes. “No, thank you.”</p><p>“Speaking of your untimely death, I thought I should remind you that we can expect this trend to continue.” Takizawa tucks the cigarettes away and pulls out an e-cigarette instead. He takes a deep drag of it, exhaling a sweet-smelling white vapor that dissipates almost as quickly as it appeared. “Shit, this stuff sucks.”</p><p>“I appreciate your reminder, and that you aren’t smoking directly in front of my room.”</p><p>“Of course, Big Boss.”</p><p>Shige leans against the wall, the weight of exhaustion suddenly overcoming him. Takizawa is loyal, and on top of that independent enough to not simper and wheedle his way onto Shige’s good side. But he’s also busy, which makes Shige wonder why he’s being paid a visit. “Why are you here, Captain? Are the nine new kids on the block too much to handle?”</p><p>“No, they’re doing fine. Making it snow both in Shinjuku proper and in the police department. You wouldn’t believe how many cops love doing a little recreational cocaine on the weekends. Or maybe you can, considering your little internship in the prosecutor’s office. Make any friends in high places while you were there?”</p><p>“Please don’t bring that up now,” Shige groans and walks past Takizawa. He pushes the door to his room open and collapses into a chair in the sitting area, loosening his tie as he does. Takizawa follows, closing the door. He sits across from Shige, reaching for the bottle of shōchu on the coffee table between them when Shige presses his fingers against his temples.</p><p>“Here,” he offers Shige the glass he pours. “I’m sorry for your loss.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Shige accepts it, taking a small sip. “If this continues, I’ll be safe at least until I am officially instated Chairman of the Niijima Clan. After that, all bets are off.”</p><p>“Yes, but whoever it is, they’re getting ballsier,” Takizawa counters, folding his hands in his lap. “The assassinations have been taking place sooner and sooner after the official vote, and there’s no guarantee that they’ll wait if it takes a while to get all the families together. You need more protection.”</p><p>“I was thinking about that, actually.”</p><p>“It is still a mystery how the killers managed to get your father and uncle alone, let alone your grandfather, and—”</p><p>“Why is it only men who are allowed to vote? Why not have the families’ highest ranking member—some of them are women, right? Like Mikami Reika after she lost her husband?—come regardless of gender?”</p><p>“—I have the perfect candidate,” Takizawa finishes, not heeding a word Shige says.</p><p>“Did you hear me?”</p><p>“Yes, and we may discuss that once you are actually the Chairman,” Takizawa responds. “Listen, I know you’re antsy to inherit the position, but there’s no point in making plans for the future of the clan, let alone ones that will rattle the entire system, if you don’t live to see autumn.”</p><p>“Don’t you think it’s a good idea? Any family member, so long as they can speak on behalf of their clan,” Shige sets his glass down. Takizawa stares at him, unmoving, and Shige suddenly feels very small. “Who?</p><p>“An old recruit, one of those orphans taken in by a geezer relatively high up in the Osaka branch who died ten years ago. A lot of them have since gone straight, but this one still owes your grandfather a favor.” Takizawa takes another drag of his e-cigarette and pours himself a glass of shōchu as well. “Nishikido Ryō. You heard of him?”</p><p>“No, actually, I’m surprised you’re not recommending me Iwamoto.”</p><p>“Hikaru? No. Too high profile after his arrest back in March.” Takizawa takes a sip. “Wrongful imprisonment or not, he’s in the system now. As are most of the guards we’ve had on you since your grandfather died, which means the police are keeping track of them. If it isn’t the Seiryū Alliance, then it may as well be someone much more… <em>political</em> looking to break us down.”</p><p>“And this Nishikido isn’t?” Shige feels doubtful; even without an arrest record, most of the members have had brushes with the police here or there, unable to resist getting into trouble in some way. “How?”</p><p>“He’s been well trained, even before he came from Osaka,” Takizawa responds. “Plus, he’s not exactly talkative. Not much police interest in interrogating a mute man.”</p><p>“Ah,” Shige downs the rest of his drink. “Overlooked.”</p><p>He takes a moment to think it over, turning the shōchu glass in his hands. He has always known that he’ll die someday, but the imminent threat of death looms much closer than it ever had before with the title of Chairman hanging right in front of him, thirty years too soon and almost assuredly violently. A deep unsettling anxiety sets into the pits of his guts, churning the alcohol in his otherwise empty stomach. He can’t be alone and vulnerable, not with some unknown assassin waiting in the shadows for the opportunity to strike. Takizawa’s proposal makes sense, and he wouldn’t take time out of his schedule to propose anything that wouldn’t benefit both of them. Which means…</p><p>“What’s he done wrong?”</p><p>Takizawa looks surprised for a moment, but immediately the collected mask slides right back on. “Why do you ask?”</p><p>“If he were of use to you, then you’d be reluctant to get rid of him.” Shige’s so curious that he can’t help himself.</p><p>“Shige,” Takizawa’s voice is firm, unyielding. “If you don’t survive before we figure out which bastard’s trying to kill the entire main branch of the Niijima Clan, then all of this—our holds in Tokyo, Osaka, Hiroshima, even the group we’re merging with in Nagoya—will be thrown into a power struggle that will leave few survivors. You are the last of Niijima Shunji’s direct heirs, and your mother will not be delivering any more sons. I offer you Nishikido because I know he’s your best chance at surviving while we investigate. Do you understand?”</p><p>Shige shrinks, feeling guilty. Of course, of course. He can trust Takizawa. “Yes, you’re right. My apologies for doubting you.”</p><p>Takizawa stands and straightens his jacket. “Nishikido is waiting outside. I’ll send him in and you two can get acquainted.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Shige watches Takizawa reach for his phone as he opens the door, typing a quick message in. The door shuts firmly behind Takizawa, leaving Shige alone at last. He pours himself another drink and shrugs off the palpable weight of the fate of the clan pressing down on his shoulders.</p><p>A knock comes shortly after. “Yes,” Shige calls out. The door opens to reveal Takizawa, and behind him stands a slim, tanned man slouched over in his suit. This must be Nishikido.</p><p>“Excuse us,” Takizawa bows, performing formality now that he has to act like a Captain in front of his subordinate. Nishikido does the same, and whatever his posture implied, his bow undoes.</p><p>“Enter.”</p><p>Takizawa and Nishikido bow again and enter Shige’s room. “Nishikido,” Takizawa says over his shoulder. “Greet your new boss.”</p><p>Nishikido does a perfect forty-five degree bow, and Shige gestures for him to lift his head. When he does, Shige gets a better look at his face. Nishikido has angular features dotted with moles, clear dark eyes, and thick furrowed brows. But he doesn’t look at Shige, eyes fixed on the wallpaper behind his head. “I’m in your care, Nishikido-san.”</p><p>Nishikido only bows again. Shige realizes that he has no idea what else to say to a man who will not give him any verbal responses</p><p>“Well,” Takizawa claps his hands together. “I think this will go swimmingly. Nishikido, as we discussed.” Nishikido nods, not moving his gaze from somewhere above Shige’s head. “Now if you’ll excuse me, future Chairman, I have business to get back to.”</p><p>With another perfunctory bow, Takizawa disappears from the room, leaving Shige and Nishikido there in the heavy silence of each other’s company.</p><p>Shige swallows, throat suddenly thick. What does he do with Nishikido, now that he has a personal bodyguard? Does Nishikido sleep when he sleeps? Eat when he eats? The house is heavily guarded, so he doesn’t have to worry about being killed in his sleep, but…</p><p>“Do you… know how this works?” Shige directs the question to Nishikido, who has begun to look almost restless. Nishikido finally turns his gaze to Shige’s face and fixes him with an almost incredulous stare. “Right, uh…” Shige gestures for Nishikido to sit and stands up, moving to his bedside to rifle through his bedside table drawers for an old notepad and a pen. When he turns back around, Nishikido is still standing, and has turned to watch him with those same repudiating eyes. Shige returns to the couch, Nishikido’s stare fixed on his every step. He holds out the notepad and pen to Nishikido. “Write down anything you want to say to me?”</p><p>Nishikido doesn’t take Shige’s offerings, only pulls out his smartphone and rapidly taps at the screen. A tinny voice plays from the speakers: “Not necessary.”</p><p>Shige feels deeply ashamed. “Oh. My apologies, I wasn’t sure what your… protocol is.”</p><p>Nishikido tucks his phone back into his jacket pocket and looks right at Shige, a corner of his mouth drawn tight in what might be irritation.</p><p>“Okay, um.” Shige places the notepad onto the coffee table and downs the rest of his drink. “I’m going to bed. Nishikido-san, please feel free to go home and come back tomorrow. We can reconvene in the morning, I guess.”</p><p>Nishikido pulls out his phone again. “Captain Takizawa set me up in a room down the hall.”</p><p>“Oh,” Shige is too tired to be surprised. Takizawa’s always three steps ahead of him. “That makes sense, I guess. Well then, I will see you in the morning.”</p><p>Nishikido gestures at his phone and holds out his hand. Shige realizes what he’s asking and unlocks his cell, placing it in Nishikido’s outstretched palm. When he gets it back, Nishikido has entered his own contact information and sent himself a message to receive Shige’s.</p><p>“Good thinking. Thank you.”</p><p>Nishikido slips his phone into the breast pocket of his suit and taps on the pocket. Shige takes that to mean, ‘If you need anything, message me,’ and with another perfect, practiced bow, Nishikido excuses himself. Shige lets out a deep sigh as the door closes, rethinking their interaction.</p><p>“I’m a dumbass,” he mutters to himself. “What year is it, 1970? Of course he has an app.”</p><p>Nishikido’s exasperated face is painted on the back of his eyelids when he finally gets into bed, feeling the last tinges of embarrassment wash away with the waves of slumber rolling over him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Life with Nishikido’s presence is only marginally different than before. Nishikido doesn’t work all the time; he eats when Shige eats, he sleeps when Shige sleeps. But other than the few hours of rest he seems to get when Shige’s in bed, he’s always lingering somewhere near Shige’s line of vision, ready to spring into action at any moment. Or so it seems, anyway—Shige has studied Nishikido’s posture for a month now, in the moments when he’s doing paperwork alone in the study and Nishikido is leaning against the wood of his desk with his spine coiled tightly, stare fixed on the door, or when Nishikido turns his neck restlessly in the front seat of the car, eyes darting everywhere beyond the windows.</p><p>Shige is used to having protection, usually mid-ranking members of the main Niijima branch taking turns to protect the future head of the clan. When he was younger, Shige was paranoid that the people around him would notice; whenever he turned his head, he could spot the new shadowy figure of the week lingering in the distance, across the fence, out the window. But no one ever brought it up, and by university Shige was able to more or less ignore their presence in his collegiate life, during those golden years of relative freedom.</p><p>Takizawa must have set this up farther in advance than Shige realized, because his usual bodyguards incorporate Nishikido’s presence seamlessly. They communicate with Nishikido via message to let him know the details of Shige’s destinations, and Nishikido’s assured confidence as they move through unfamiliar spaces somewhat quells Shige’s growing anxiety.</p><p>In fact, he expected Nishikido’s constant presence to be irritating, or even anxiety-inducing. Even as he was forced to get more involved in the day-to-day of the family business after college, the rotating set of bodyguards settled to a dozen loyal clan members. Most of the time they move around him, rather than with him, always staying at the fringes of the space he occupies. Nishikido, on the other hand, is with him even when he is alone.</p><p>They talk, a little. Usually it’s Shige mumbling to himself, or pondering aloud. Nishikido doesn’t respond unless Shige is asking him something directly, but Shige knows he’s listening because sometimes his shoulders shake from behind when Shige’s being particularly dramatic, monologuing arguments with himself. And once—just once—Nishikido reaches out and places a hand on Shige’s shoulder when he is in a particularly foul mood, having received news that one of his father’s core advisors was caught selling information to the Seiryū Alliance. The weight of it is surprisingly calming, dragging Shige out of his usual spiral of dread and self-flagellation.</p><p>It lets him think rationally at last. His grandfather would have had the man killed, as would his uncle. His father, on the other hand, would likely have recommended that they poison the Seiryū Alliance against him, making it seem as though he’d sell information to any rival clan for his own benefit. And he lists this all aloud to Captain Sakamoto, who recommends torture instead. Shige shakes his head and says he’ll think about it.</p><p><em>I recommend taking three fingers</em>, Nishikido appends half-jokingly to his nightly schedule update when Shige is in bed.</p><p><em>I was thinking a permanent relocation to the office in Odaiba</em>, Shige responds, still feeling betrayed. This is the joke—there are no Odaiba offices. Nishikido should know that he’s insinuating a swim in Tokyo Bay.</p><p><em>How about something worse: three fingers and his dick</em>.</p><p>This makes Shige laugh in the darkness of his room.</p><p>The traitor doesn’t see sunrise, Shige finds out the next morning, thanks to quick work by the Ohno family. Lieutenant Ninomiya is nonchalant in his report, and when he leaves he steps lightly out of the room as if he hadn’t just reported the death of a fellow clan member.</p><p>“I didn’t request the hit,” Shige confesses later that night. He’s not sure why—everything is kind of done on his behalf, even if he doesn’t know about it. Nishikido is the only one in the room, watching Shige pour drink after drink.</p><p>Nishikido only nods when Shige looks at him.</p><p>“Another man dead because of me,” he murmurs, pressing his hands to his face. “When will it end?”</p><p>“It never will,” Nishikido’s phone intones.</p><p>“I know,” Shige hears himself whine. “I know, and I hate it. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this.”</p><p>He’s drunk by this point, the world swimming around him as Nishikido sighs and helps push him into bed, fully clothed. Nishikido doesn’t tuck him in, doesn’t bother even helping him out of his suit jacket. “It’s not your fault,” he thinks he hears the robotic voice from Nishikido’s phone say from far away, right before the door slams.</p><p>“But it is,” he whispers to no one.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>On a day-to-day basis, even without the formal title of Chairman, Shige is swept up in all the duties of the clan’s head. He has endless meetings, approves or denies plans, consults with advisors. If not for the fact that the focus of his meetings is often the movement of contraband across the country and at times overseas, Shige imagines that this is what being a business CEO entails.</p><p>He catches himself fantasizing about what life would be like without the danger of organized crime one day, while he’s staring out the window of the meeting room in the Dōmoto clan headquarters in Osaka on a trip there. He and Nishikido are alone, waiting for the Osaka patriarchs to arrive.</p><p>“What do you think you would have been if you hadn’t joined the clan?”</p><p>Nishikido’s head snaps around to look at him. Seeing that Shige is looking directly at him, he reaches into his breast pocket for his phone. “Rock guitarist. You?”</p><p>Shige chuckles. “I think I would have been a pretty good defense lawyer.”</p><p>“Certainly not a good businessman.”</p><p>“No, you’re right about that,” Shige sighs, leaning back in the chair. Then, mostly to himself, he mutters, “But I guess I’ll never know. I was fated to this when I was born, unlike some of the clan members. But I always wonder, why would anyone choose this life in the first place unless they were born into it?”</p><p>Nishikido’s in the middle of sliding his phone back into his jacket when he pauses.</p><p>“What?” Shige is curious. Nishikido’s movements are usually so assured. “Did I say something wrong?”</p><p>Nishikido shakes his head and resumes putting his phone into his pocket.</p><p>Strange, Shige thinks, but before he can consider the reasons why Nishikido’s actions piqued his curiosity, the door swings open to reveal the matriarch of the Yonekura family, Captain Dōmoto Koichi, <em>and</em> Captain Dōmoto Tsuyoshi, ready to discuss their newest plans to incorporate the Yonekura holdings in Nagoya</p><p>Maybe he was out of line, Shige thinks as the Dōmotos lay out their plan, Yonekura nodding as she elegantly smokes a cigarette. Nishikido was raised by a yakuza member—he might have not known any other path through life because of it. His disability, as well, might have meant that other employment opportunities when he became an adult were few and far between.</p><p>After the meeting, in the hotel suite Koichi booked for him, Shige apologizes. “I’m sorry for earlier. Those were thoughtless comments.”</p><p>Nishikido shrugs.</p><p>“I guess I don’t know much about you, or why you became a part of the Niijima Clan. Takizawa didn’t tell me much, and you’re not obliged to tell me either.” Shige hangs his head, embarrassed. “I just wanted to say sorry.”</p><p>“A lot of things happen outside of our control,” Nishikido responds. Shige looks at his face, which looks neither angry nor sympathetic. His fingers move again—“Your life, and mine.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Shige nods. “But regardless, thank you for protecting me.”</p><p>Well, it’s embarrassing-sounding, but it’s the most heartfelt thanks Shige feels he’s ever said. He pats the couch next to him.</p><p>“Do you want to stay, have a drink? I’d like to know more about you.”</p><p>There’s a beat before Nishikido’s ears turn red and he hastily holds up a hand, the universal sign for ‘No thank you.’</p><p>“You’re right,” Shige stands and stretches. “More work tomorrow. You should go rest as well.”</p><p>Nishikido then slips his phone back into his pocket, taps on it once perfunctorily, and quickly excuses himself with a bow. It’s only once he’s gone that Shige realizes what he said and buries his face in his hands. “Try and make it sound <em>more</em> like a proposition next time, will you?”</p><p>The embarrassment haunts him, but Nishikido is normal the next day, if not a little bit more sarcastic. Shige is thankful for Nishikido’s decent sense of humor, which begins to surface a little bit more each day they spend together.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They’re in Akasaka discussing the sale of black market firearms over dinner with a client—some wealthy tycoon with under-the-table investments in places that even Shige doesn’t want to know about—when it happens.</p><p>Shige feels fine; he’s handling the conversation well, Lieutenant Kokubun masterfully filling in the gaps with his cheerful demeanor and providing details subtly in conversation where Shige’s lack of experience might become apparent otherwise. In a show of trust, Shige has sent all of his men except Nishikido to stand watch outside of the room. The tycoon—Harada—is getting redder and redder as he gulps down cup after tiny cup of Maotai and guffaws at another of Kokubun’s jokes.</p><p>Kokubun leaves to use the bathroom as their conversation wraps up, leaving Shige and Harada alone at the table.</p><p>“I was worried,” Harada declares, “hearing about the late, great Niijima Shunji’s death. But I am glad that we are able to come to a reasonable agreement.” He stands unsteadily, reaching over the table with a hand extended. “You’re doing well, future Chairman.”</p><p>Shige feels proud, a little tipsy. He stands as well, clasping Harada’s hand with his own. “President Harada, I am grateful that you are willing to see me as your equal,” he says, resisting the urge to bow.</p><p>Harada’s grip tightens and his rubbery lips stretch into a leer. “You certainly are much nicer to look at than your grandfather,” he murmurs, jerking his hand backward to bring Shige with him. Shige’s other hand hits the table to steady himself as he tumbles forward, finding himself bent over the table with Harada leaning over him. “But don’t think we’re equals, pretty boy,” Harada snarls, breath heavy and wet as it rustles the hair on Shige’s nape.</p><p>Embarrassment, shame, terror—Shige feels all these things simultaneously as he realizes how vulnerable he truly is, how foolishly he assumed that he could effortlessly fill the enormous shoes of the former Chairman. Harada’s grip is vicelike on his hand, but it might as well be clamped around the back of his neck, holding him against the table.</p><p>Until it’s gone, and Harada is hollering.</p><p>Shige pushes himself up to see Nishikido twisting Harada’s arms together in an uncomfortable-looking position. Harada squirms, but either way he turns, his shoulders look like they’re about to pop out of their sockets. “Get off!” he yells, and his own guards scramble to pull Nishikido off of him. But Nishikido’s grip is tight, and with each movement he is forced to make, Harada only screams louder. The Niijima guards outside burst into the room; in response, one of Harada’s bodyguards reaches into his jacket—and Shige feels fear shoot through him.</p><p>“Nishikido,” Shige calls, “let him go. It’s not his fault.”</p><p>Nishikido’s response is immediate, releasing Harada’s wrists and raising his hands in the air. Harada’s guards grab Nishikido and push him to his knees, but the one reaching into his jacket has paused, eyeing Nishikido carefully.</p><p>“You’re right,” Shige bows to Harada. “I am sorry for my subordinate’s behavior. And I apologize for my earlier statement.”</p><p>Harada looks livid, but gestures for his men to release Nishikido. “At least you seem to have inherited your grandfather’s humility,” he breathes, straightening his jacket. “Don’t let it happen again, or I’ll have to make my business with the Seiryū clan.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Shige bows again as Harada and his men shuffle out of the dining room. Nishikido brushes himself off and stands, while Shige collapses back into his chair. His own bodyguards look sheepish when he casts a glance around the room.</p><p>“Sorry, Boss,” Kawashima murmurs from behind him.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Shige breathes, but Nishikido looks positively murderous. He steps toward Kawashima, who, to his credit, does not shrink backward, only looks wide-eyed at Nishikido’s approach. “Nishikido, it’s <em>fine</em>. I’m fine. It’s my fault.”</p><p>Nishikido turns his glare onto Shige, but steps back from Kawashima and the others.</p><p>Kokubun returns a few moments later, looking slightly grey around the edges. “Sorry, I don’t think the sea cucumber agreed with me. What did I miss?”</p><p>The ride home is quiet, as usual. Shige stares out the window at the passing scenery, the streetlamps over the highway casting yellow through the tinted windows. Nishikido is tense in the passenger seat, head moving this way and that as always.</p><p>Even when they return to the sprawling Niijima estate, Nishikido follows Shige all the way into his bedroom. Shige doesn’t mind; the image of Harada’s guard, hand reaching into his jacket, plays over and over in his mind as he sits down pours himself a tumbler of shōchu. A knife? A gun? What would have happened mere moments later?</p><p>It’s his fault. He was a little too puffed up on Chinese liquor and the sense that he was doing well, when in reality Kokubun had been doing most of the work. If it had just been Shige and Harada, he’s sure that the night would have ended worse, Harada’s deal with the Niijima clan up in smoke, or with Shige and Nishikido dead on the floor. Too many of Harada’s men in the room, too few of his own. He shouldn’t have sent them all outside; Harada didn’t even bat an eye when he did so. Kokubun had looked uneasy at the suggestion, but of course he couldn’t say anything in front of a client. Shige knows—</p><p>“Stop thinking about it.” A tinny voice breaks the silence in the room, and Shige realizes just how heavy his breath has become.</p><p>He turns his head toward Nishikido, who has his phone out. Nishikido’s gaze turns toward Shige, fixing him with a withering look. “What?”</p><p>Nishikido’s fingers move across the screen. “Calm down.”</p><p>Shige sighs, his head dropping forward. “Harada was drunk and I said something completely unnecessary and bigheaded. If Lieutenant Kokubun hadn’t been there to guide the conversation, then—”</p><p>“It’s not your fault.”</p><p>Indignance bubbles over. “It is!” Shige shouts, standing suddenly. He bangs his shin into the coffee table and the shōchu glass on the table slides off its coaster from the force. Shige glares at Nishikido, who stares right back. “My ego could have gotten us killed! I just assumed that I would be able to maintain the relationships my grandfather built in the decades that he’s run the clan, all because I’m inheriting this fucking Chairman role, when in reality I’m powerless, a shitty negotiator, and on top of everything, a dumbass! Stop looking at me like that!”</p><p>Nishikido looks down at his phone again. “Yes, you are,” Nishikido’s phone says.</p><p>“Great, I’m so glad you have confidence in me,” Shige snaps. “My own personal bodyguard, gifted to me by the great Captain Takizawa Hideaki, agrees that I’m a dumbass. I didn’t want this! I didn’t ask to be Chairman!”</p><p>“But what else can you do?”</p><p>“I—” Shige’s voice catches in his throat at that sentence, anger draining out of him.</p><p>“We’re still alive.” Nishikido tucks his phone back into his pocket and turns to leave. Shige wants to stop him, wants to scream and yell and bicker that it <em>is</em> his fault, that he’s never going to survive even when the election goes through, that this mess with Harada is a harbinger of bad things to come, and that whoever killed his predecessors should just off him now and relieve the clan of their inept future Chairman.</p><p>But the door slams shut behind Nishikido, and Shige is alone.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Mid-afternoon on the day Shige is to be elected Chairman, he gets a call.</p><p>“Hello! How’s my favorite future mob boss doing?”</p><p>Koyama’s voice is clear and chipper over the phone. Shige pauses—“Aren’t you at work?”</p><p>“Oh, right,” Koyama’s voice drops to a hushed whisper. “It’s probably fine, I’m on a super late lunch break and—oh, good afternoon, Prosecutor Higashiyama! An afternoon snack? How lovely! I’m just now eating lunch. Yep, instant noodles.”</p><p>Shige cringes as Koyama chatters loudly on the other end. Nishikido glances over his shoulder from the passenger seat, and Shige clicks the volume button on his phone to lower the sound.</p><p>A few minutes later, Koyama seems to have extricated himself from the situation. When he comes back on the line, he breathes a sign of relief. “That was close. Sorry, Shige! I’m in my office now.”</p><p>“You got upgraded to a private office?”</p><p>“No, but my officemate is at the courthouse today. She’s trying—uh, actually, I probably shouldn’t mention it. Anyway!” Koyama makes a loud slurping sound on the other end of the phone. “I just wanted to tell you that we’re having a get-together for our intern group next week, Saturday evening, at the usual old bar in Ryōgoku. You think you can make it?”</p><p>Shige snorts. Koyama invites him to every single one of these reunions, where current prosecutors and lawyers from their prosecutor’s office internship cycle mingle, complain about work, and try and recruit each other to their big law firms. Shige hasn’t been to any of them, but that hasn’t stopped Koyama from trying.</p><p>“You know that by this point, at least one of the other current prosecutors has probably realized who I am, right?</p><p>“I really don’t know if they have,” Koyama muses. “It’s been almost ten years, Shige, and you were under an alias. Everyone is always like, ‘Hey, where’s that Katō Shizuya? Whatever happened to him? Went back to the boonies?’ And then bam, it’s like you never existed. Plus you finally got your teeth fixed, got a good haircut, and have stayed out of the system, so anyone who did see you in some random Niijima clan photo would have to look <em>really</em> closely in order to make that connection.”</p><p>“Thank you for thinking of me, but I can’t,” Shige responds evenly, as always. “No extra risks.”</p><p>Koyama hums on the other end. “How are you holding up, by the way? We haven’t spoken since just after your grandfather died.”</p><p>“I’m fine. Just busy.”</p><p>“A lot on your plate, eh?”</p><p>“You know it,” Shige sighs.</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“This is entrapment.”</p><p>Koyama laughs. “You’re rusty, Shige. Technically it’s not entrapment if you’re not committing a crime, it’s just snitching—and it might not even be admissible in court!”</p><p>“Yeah, right.”</p><p>“Anyway, that’s all I wanted to check up on with you. Let’s get dinner sometime! Me, you, and all your bodyguards.”</p><p>Shige rolls his eyes, looking up from his lap. Nishikido’s head is still, turned slightly to the side as if he’s listening to Shige’s conversation. “Yeah, sure, I’ll arrange something,” he says. “Bye.”</p><p>“Love you!” Koyama makes exaggerated kissy noises into the phone.</p><p>Hastily pressing ‘end call,’ Shige feels the overwhelming urge to explain. “He’s a prosecutor,” he directs to the back of Nishikido’s head and his barely visible cheek. “We’re still friends. Did Takizawa tell you I did an internship in the Chiba Metropolitan prosecutor’s office when I was finishing up my degree? We met there, but he’s harmless. We have the same entrapment conversation every single time we talk.”</p><p>His phone buzzes, so he looks at it. Nishikido has texted him: <em>Whatever you say, Boss.</em></p><p>But when Shige looks back up, Nishikido’s visible cheek is pulled tightly backward in what might be a smile.</p><p>Things have gotten better overall. In the month since his meeting with Harada, Shige has doubled down on work, checking in more often with subsidiary families and meeting as many of the clan’s clients as possible. He’s gotten a better sense now of what almost every branch is up to, where they’re going, where they plan to be in six months. As a result, he hasn’t made another mistake like he did with Harada: he’s humble, grateful, but not vulnerable in his meetings with arms and narcotics buyers. And it seems, more or less, that Nishikido hasn’t held Shige’s outburst against him.</p><p>Nishikido opens the door for Shige when they reach their destination, the headquarters of the Jōshima family. Matsuoka is waiting outside, and he bows deeply when Shige’s feet make contact with the ground.</p><p>“We are honored to be able to host your election ceremony,” Matsuoka says as Shige approaches. “The patriarch is waiting inside.”</p><p>“I am grateful,” Shige nods his head in response, and heads into building complex. The halls are well-lit and beautiful, well-maintained despite Jōshima’s toddler. Out of all the Niijima clan headquarters in Tokyo other than the main headquarters, the Jōshima family and the Ohno family have the largest buildings, and are thus most capable of hosting the ritual of electing the new Chairman. Jōshima, his young wife, and aforementioned squirming toddler are waiting at the entrance, bowing deeply when Shige makes his appearance.</p><p>“Thank you for coming,” Jōshima says as Shige toes off his shoes. He lifts his head and, perhaps out of habit, scans over Shige’s cohort of guards. For a second, Shige thinks he sees Jōshima’s eyes narrow, but it’s barely for a moment. “Please, Shigeaki, this way,” he gestures down the hall. “Your men may retire to the dinner hall to the right.”</p><p>As his men file up the hallway to the right, Shige begins to follow Jōshima down the other way. As usual, Nishikido splits off from the group, remaining a few paces behind Shige. Jōshima turns suddenly, staring at Nishikido. “Pardon me,” he begins, and Shige glances between the two men, uncomfortable. “Who is this?”</p><p>“Nishikido,” Shige answers. “He’s my personal bodyguard. Takizawa suggested that I have more consistent protection after the previous Chairmen were murdered, and—”</p><p>“I see,” Jōshima murmurs, looking Nishikido up and down. “Tradition dictates that until midnight, when all the votes are cast, you must remain out of sight and alone. My home is secure, Shigeaki. You will be safe.”</p><p>“I know it’s not the normal way of doing things, but I would much prefer that Nishikido stay by my side until the votes are cast,” Shige says. “And even once it begins, he can stay outside the room with my other guards.”</p><p>Jōshima’s eyes soften. “Before the sun sets,” he responds, “I should speak to you privately. Do you mind?” This last question he directs at Nishikido, who turns to look at Shige. Shige nods, and Nishikido taps on his breast pocket—his smartphone—before he turns around and heads toward the room where all of Shige’s men must be. As he watches Nishikido’s retreating back, anxiety festers in the pit of his stomach; this is the first time that Shige has been without Nishikido in months outside of his own bedroom.</p><p>“This way,” Jōshima leads him further down the hallway. Jōshima’s men are scattered in the hallway, still and disciplined as they keep watch over their patriarch and their future Chairman. They wind up in a tatami room overlooking a small courtyard.</p><p>Shige sits across from Jōshima at the small table. “Shigeaki,” Jōshima begins, but trails off.</p><p>“Is something the matter?”</p><p>“Do you feel safe?” Jōshima fixes him with a concerned look.</p><p>Shige can’t help but laugh. “Yes, I do. Since the incident with President Harada, I’ve been extremely careful about my interactions with clients. I think everyone’s been antsier in the days leading up to the election ceremony, but I haven’t had any issues. Besides—”</p><p>Jōshima cuts him off. “No, with Nishikido.”</p><p>Shige can’t believe his ears. “Why?” he asks, feeling that familiar sense of anxiety unfurl again. “Do you know something about him?”</p><p>“No, perhaps not quite about <em>him</em>, exactly.” In all of Shige’s life, Jōshima has never looked so flustered. “But I thought he looked familiar, and hearing his name brought it all back.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>Jōshima taps his fingers against the table, chewing on his lip. “Almost twenty years ago, when you were starting junior high, there was a turf war brewing in Osaka between the Niijima clan and the Jūrokusha Alliance. It was messy—your grandfather made sure to put extra guards on you even despite the extra attention it might draw.”</p><p>Shige thinks back, recalls getting into an argument with his mother over it. <em>Tell them to stop following me so closely!</em> She had been adamant that he could either walk home with guards following him, barely out of sight, or face the humiliation of getting into a glossy black car every day after school in front of his friends. “I see.”</p><p>“The local police dared not get involved. No matter how high the body count got, as long as we kept regular people out of it, they didn’t lift a finger. And that, your grandfather was very particular about,” Jōshima continues. “He called together a meeting of the patriarchs to decide what to do, and Kamiya made a compelling argument for the hard approach. Your grandfather was as good man as he could have been, Shigeaki. He did only what he had to do. And that included assassinating eight of the sixteen families in the Alliance.”</p><p>Shige knows about this. He heard about it in high school when his father deemed him ready to learn more about the detailed workings of the clan. The bloody events of the post-recession turf war had come as a shock then, but the older he got, the less they seemed to matter. What did matter, his father had pressed, was that they broke apart the historically violent and aggressive Jūrokusha Alliance into smaller factions and loosened their control enough to take over. If there had to be organized crime, better it be the Niijima kind than the chaos of the Jūrokusha.</p><p>Shige recalls from the depths of his memory the names of the families in the Jūrokusha Alliance: Iguchi… Ohkura… Oowada… Uchi… Kan… Kotani… Saejima… Shibutani… Tanizaki… Tennōji… Maruyama… Murakami… Nitori… Yasuda… Yokoyama… Watabe…</p><p>“So what does this have to do with Nishikido?”</p><p>“He was a teenager when your grandfather had his family assassinated,” Jōshima responds, meeting Shige’s eyes.</p><p>“But there was no Nishikido family in the Jūrokusha Alliance,” Shige counters slowly, but his mind is slowly putting the last pieces together.</p><p>“And your last name isn’t Niijima.”</p><p>Shige’s already there, and he feels his body go cold by the time the last syllables slip from Jōshima’s mouth. “The eight orphans old patriarch Fujisaki took in, they were…?”</p><p>“Hostages, in a way,” Jōshima finishes for him. “The heirs of the families that were killed to ensure the remaining families of the Jūrokusha would not attempt to interfere with our work in Osaka.”</p><p>He’s stunned, shock roaring in his ears. “I’ve been placing my life in the hands of someone who might want revenge on me and my family.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Shigeaki,” Jōshima certainly looks apologetic. “I don’t know if Takizawa knows the details either, for he was fairly young back then as well. Starting tonight, I am happy to arrange for one of my men to be your personal bodyguard, and we can deal with Nishikido once this is all over.”</p><p>There’s a knock at the door. Jōshima calls out to signal whoever is there that they may open the door, and it slides open to reveal a familiar enough face to Shige. “Boss,” Nagase nods to Jōshima. Almost-Chairman,” he bows to Shige. “It’s almost sundown.”</p><p>“Well,” Jōshima brushes off his kimono as he stands. “Shigeaki, we’ll talk after midnight. Nagase will take you to the waiting room.”</p><p>Shige is led down another hallway, now dim from the slowly darkening sky, numbly staring at Nagase’s enormous back as they make their way to the room where Shige will sit and await all the votes from the families of the Niijima clan. “You nervous?” Nagase directs over his shoulder.</p><p>“No,” Shige responds.</p><p>“Good,” Nagase grins. “Everyone knows it’s just a formality. By 12:01am, you’ll officially be the Chairman of the clan.”</p><p>“I hear you’re planning on leaving us,” Shige is on autopilot, and the rumor tumbles from his mouth.</p><p>Nagase just laughs. “Yeah, I’ve got other stuff to do. Plus, Jōshima won’t make me cut off a finger for it. Just my hair.”</p><p>“Pity,” Shige replies. “It’s nice hair.”</p><p>“Gee, thanks, Boss.”</p><p>They stop in front of a door, where two of Shige’s usual cohort of guards are stationed, plus a few middle-ranking members of other families sent to keep eyes on each other. Nishikido is nowhere to be seen.</p><p>“Chairman,” Kawashima bows deeply to him. “We will not leave your side until the election ceremony is over.”</p><p>Shige takes a deep breath, trying to refocus on the task at hand. “Thank you, Kawashima, Miyachika.” He turns his eyes down the hallway. “Nakajima, Miyake, Ueda, Iwamoto, Matsumura, Kojima, Shigeoka, Tsukada, Nikaido, Kikuchi. My life is in your hands tonight.”</p><p>Nagase pulls the door open. “You don’t have to be so dramatic, Chairman-to-be,” he grins. “I’ll be hanging out here too.”</p><p>“Thank you as well.”</p><p>Shige doesn’t bow. Everyone else does, to him, as he moves past them and shuts the sliding door behind him.</p><p>The room is sparsely furnished, but thankfully there is a tatami chair and a small table, tea equipment and cups set out alongside a lavish-looking lacquer box that Shige assumes is filled with food. He isn’t to open the doors to the courtyard, but he can tell that it’s almost completely dark out. There are some voices from beyond the other doors as well—it seems that the group outside has spread to cover each side of the room. A clock sits on the wall: August nights are short, which means Shige will only have to wait a few hours until midnight. Shige settles down and makes himself a cup of tea.</p><p>Half an hour later, in the distance, there is the metallic clang of a bell. The first vote is in.</p><p>Shige sits, he counts the number of votes, and he thinks about Nishikido.</p><p>Three—It doesn’t make sense. Nishikido has had many opportunities to strike and take revenge. Why hasn’t he?</p><p>Seven—Perhaps Takizawa and Nishikido are in on it together, so that Takizawa can take control of the clan. But, listening to Iwamoto’s high-pitched laughter when Shigeoka tells a joke, it doesn’t seem that Takizawa’s second lieutenant is here for a fight. And he can trust Takizawa, right?</p><p>Sixteen—Maybe Jōshima’s hypothesis is right, and Takizawa had no idea in the first place. But Shige knows how shrewd the man is, how carefully he analyzes information. How could he <em>not</em> know that particular detail about the orphans?</p><p>Twenty-nine—Without Nishikido by his side, in an unfamiliar room surrounded by men, Shige feels trapped rather than protected. Could things really have changed so much in the two months since Nishikido first appeared in his life?</p><p>Thirty-six—He considers Nishikido’s cheek from the car, the slight wrinkle at the corner of his eye. The image gets stuck on loop.</p><p>Sixty-four—Halfway there.</p><p>Sixty-seven—Maybe all of the obvious facts are half-truths. Maybe Takizawa <em>did </em>know, but did not send Nishikido in order to kill Shige off. Maybe Nishikido <em>was</em> bent on revenge, but was satisfied with the deaths of the major actors in his family’s death. Maybe this is <em>a</em> Nishikido, but it’s the wrong Nishikido.</p><p>Eighty-eight—Shige sorts through his feelings: despair, if Nishikido plans to kill him once he is Chairman; hope, that if Nishikido does, he’ll will make it quick; anger, because Takizawa put him in this situation; exhaustion, physical and mental.</p><p>One hundred and nine—He grasps for his phone and checks his messages. Koyama has sent him the details of the upcoming get-together anyway. There’s nothing from Nishikido.</p><p>One hundred and twenty-one—They were lucky to be able to assemble so quickly, and Shige glances at the clock. Another clang of the bell rings out—one hundred and twenty-two—and it’s 11:46. This will be over soon.</p><p>One hundred and twenty-three—Shige wonders, dazed, who Jōshima will give him as a bodyguard. He might as well just have Kawashima and Miyachika replace Nishikido.</p><p>One hundred and twenty-four—Even with the mystery of Nishikido’s motives, there’s still one question that nags at him. Shige furrows his brow, trying to sort through what that is.</p><p>One hundred and twenty-five—Come on, think. <em>Think</em>. Taken at face value, the situation would imply—</p><p>One hundred and twenty-six—It would imply that Nishikido is also the one who killed his grandfather, his father, and his uncle.</p><p>One hundred and twenty-seven—But if he had succeeded in anonymously murdering them, then why would he need to become Shige’s personal bodyguard at all?</p><p>A gunshot rings out in the night. There is shouting, and footsteps pound down the hall</p><p>Shige looks up at the clock.</p><p>It’s midnight.</p><p>Shige flings the doors leading to the courtyard veranda open. Iwamoto and Shigeoka are standing on either side of the door he opened, bodies tensed. “Chairman,” Shigeoka calls out, “Don’t move.” Iwamoto side-steps to cover him, head turning rapidly in an attempt to figure out what’s going on.</p><p>The opposite doors leading to the hallway open, and Kawashima and Miyachika rush into the room. “Chairman,” Miyachika says breathlessly. “Stay with us.”</p><p>He’s imagining the worst—maybe Nishikido’s motive wasn’t to kill him at all, but to get closer to one of the other clan members, or a group of them. Maybe he remembered exactly who killed his family and knew that they would be here for the ceremony.</p><p>But the commotion from the other end of the building is over just as quickly as it began. Shige sees movement: a small young man is visible, dashing from between the open screens of the hallway across the courtyard. He slides to an undignified stop outside of the room. Iwamoto goes to meet him at the door.</p><p>“Sakuma, what happened?” Iwamoto speaks, and Shige recognizes the man as one of Takizawa’s subordinates.</p><p>“Kamiya,” Sakuma pants. “Patriarch Kamiya shot himself before he submitted his ballot.”</p><p>Shige is stunned. “He shot <em>himself</em>?”</p><p>Sakuma nods vigorously. “But Chairman, does this mean the ceremony is incomplete?”</p><p>Shige turns his head to stare out the courtyard doors, across the way where one hundred and twenty-eight of the Niijima clan’s male members were gathered. The room is silent around him.</p><p>“Shigeaki.” Jōshima and Takizawa appear from behind Sakuma, apparently having more slowly made their way to Shige. “This is a strange turn of events.”</p><p>“Why did he do such a thing?”</p><p>Jōshima shakes his head, while Takizawa nods to Iwamoto and Sakuma, who bow and fall behind him. “He was drunk when he arrived, and he flew into a rage when he realized he was the last one left. He shouted something about a young dragon rising from the oceans, then pulled out a pistol and… well, you can come see the body if you like.”</p><p>“Where’s Nishikido?”</p><p>Takizawa steps forward. “Jōshima and I spoke briefly before the voting began, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Nishikido’s past. But believe me, he bears you no ill will.”</p><p>“You can’t know that,” Jōshima scoffs.</p><p>“I do,” Takizawa shoots back</p><p>“Then why did he disappear?”</p><p>“Disappear?” Shige can’t believe his ears. “He’s gone? When? Where?”</p><p>Takizawa can only shake his head in response. “Abe saw him leaving the lounge earlier in the evening. That was the last time anyone saw him today.”</p><p>It’s all too much at once. Dizzy, his legs give out from under him and he collapses to the floor. Kawashima and Miyachika rush to his side, but he brushes them off. “I’m fine. I’ll take a look at Kamiya’s body,” he says, standing back up unsteadily. Jōshima nods, and beckons for Shige to follow.</p><p>His mind feels like it is far away from his body as he makes his way through the labyrinthine hallways. What was a pleasing and welcoming atmosphere in the daytime has become a dim, oppressive set of narrow walls. Men line the halls; Shige avoids eye contact with each and every one, their faces and dark suits a blur as he shuffles past.</p><p>Kamiya’s body is still lying there in the grand gathering hall, most of the patriarchs still standing around it. Despite the man’s poor leadership skills and petty personality, Shige always remembered the Kamiya patriarch as having a large presence, not unlike his own grandfather. Now, he realizes exactly how small the man actually was, his body swallowed by layers of a heavy silk kimono and jacket despite the sweltering August weather. Blood has soaked into the fabric, staining the elegant navy a dark purple. A glance upward finds a splatter of blood and viscera across the far wall and ceiling.</p><p>Nearby, Kokubun is holding the gun gingerly with a handkerchief, and swiftly offers the gun and handkerchief to Shige when he holds up a hand. Shige glances at Kokubun’s face; he is calm, but there are spots of red dotting his collar and cheek. He must have been nearby Kamiya when it happened.</p><p>The pistol is heavy, still somewhat warm. There are five bullets left in the cylinder.</p><p>Shige hands the items back to Kokubun and reaches into his jacket pocket for his own handkerchief. His grandfather had lectured him, <em>White, Shigeaki, always white</em>; he thinks he understands why his grandfather was always so particular. Unfurling it, he steps toward Kamiya’s body and gingerly lays the cloth over Kamiya’s head. It stains red instantly, doesn’t hide the mess—but it’s all he can do.</p><p>Pressing his palms together, he hears the men around him rustle as they rush to do the same, one after another. A collective Buddhist prayer for his soul’s safe passage to the Pure Land—or maybe, for Kamiya, a curse.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Wow, that’s heavy,” Koyama breathes when Shige finishes recounting—sans some of the more specific details—the events of the previous month. “Are you sure I’m allowed to hear about this?” He glances around the room, which is lined wall-to-wall with a cohort of stony-faced bodyguards.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Shige responds, picking his chopsticks up again. “It was a suicide, no foul play.” The Shinjuku police had accepted the explanation with some suspicion, but they had no reason to not believe even the yakuza when all their stories aligned.</p><p>“So for an unknown reason, the patriarch of a major subsidiary family based in the Hiroshima region killed himself in a Tokyo-based family’s home, and it just so happened to be during an important event. Why do you think he did it?”</p><p>Shige shrugs. He can’t directly tell Koyama why they were gathered, or that it was all of the most powerful families, but he imagines that the police had eyes on Jōshima’s headquarters as usual. If Koyama does a little digging, he can figure it out himself. “He was upset with the clan for a long time, but never did anything about it until now.”</p><p>Kamiya’s death was a surprise, but Tatsuhiko is still around to take over—if they can find him, anyway. Takizawa had immediately sent word to the head of the Yabu family in Hiroshima to fetch Tatsuhiko and bring him to Tokyo, but there had been no luck tracking him down. Three days prior to the ceremony, Tatsuhiko had all but vanished, and with his father dead and the other Kamiya family members allegedly as confused as the rest of them, there was no telling where he could be. And that meant, as Shige had dreaded, that the transfer of power was indeed incomplete. He was still the Chairman-to-be, and would be until they found an officially appointed male representative from the Kamiya family to cast a vote at the ritual.</p><p>“That’s intense,” Koyama murmurs. “Well, at least he didn’t try to kill you.”</p><p>Yes, Shige thinks, at least he’s still alive. “Anyway, how are things at work?”</p><p>Koyama brightens. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you! I’m getting transferred to the Shinjuku Metropolitan Office!”</p><p>“Congratulations!” Shige reaches for the bottle of wine to refill Koyama’s glass. “I guess all those late lunch breaks and instant noodles are really starting to pay off.” He holds his glass out to cheers, and Koyama enthusiastically clicks his glass to Shige’s.</p><p>“Actually, I had a big win in criminal court a few months ago,” Koyama grins. “And I guess that was the deciding factor. It was—” he pauses suddenly, face darkening. “I guess the records are public, but maybe I shouldn’t say exactly right in front of you.”</p><p>Shige doesn’t have to ask why. Koyama’s hesitance means that it was likely a member of the Niijima Clan who received a guilty verdict. He’s hardly surprised; Koyama’s surprisingly shrewd judgment during their internship years marked him as a rising star in the world of criminal litigation when he was hired by the Hachiōji Prosecutor’s Office, and it’s not at all unusual that a member of organized crime was found to be committing a crime.</p><p>Regardless, Koyama looks sheepish. “Sorry, I know it’s my job and all, but…”</p><p>“Drink,” Shige urges him instead. “How’s your mother?”</p><p>Koyama, as expected, grasps on to the opportunity to change subjects and chatters on and on about his family and the girl he’s recently started seeing. The rest of dinner goes as usual: the two of them share smiles and jokes and keep their occupational secrets closely guarded from each other.</p><p>When he returns to the car, Shige finds Masuda waiting in the back seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Detective?”</p><p>Masuda holds out an envelope, grinning. “You know the drill,” he responds. “I’ve got the info, you’ve got the money.”</p><p>Shige takes the proffered envelope and hastily tears it open. “I had dinner with Koyama,” he says casually, leafing through the documents. “He’s being transferred to Shinjuku.”</p><p>“Oh? That’ll be nice. He’ll probably be coming around my division pretty frequently then, if he stays in criminal prosecution.”</p><p>“Sounds like you’ll have your hands full.” Shige scans down the case files, looking for a certain name. “How did you get your hands on these?”</p><p>Masuda waves a hand. “If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you. Kidding, of course. By the way, tell Captain Takizawa to stop Fukazawa from trying to get chummy with the street beat cops. Some of them are green and a little too bold, and I don’t want to have to deal with the imminent crime scene.”</p><p>“I’ll make a note of it,” Shige nods, closing the file. “I wasn’t aware you were so concerned about the lives of yakuza underlings.”</p><p>“I’m not, I’m worried about the poor kid who gets scared, pulls a gun on Fukazawa, and meets their maker via Iwamoto or Mukai.” Masuda shivers exaggeratedly, crossing his arms. “Imagine the splatter.”</p><p>Shige chuckles—even after ten years on the organized crime police force, Masuda still can’t stand messy crime scenes. “Thank you, I’ll have the funds wired tomorrow morning.”</p><p>“Sweet dreams, Chairman,” Masuda grins again and slips out of the vehicle and into the dark side streets of Nakameguro.</p><p>When he gets back to headquarters, Shige dismisses his bodyguards and closes himself in his bedroom. He hastily combs through the files again, skimming through details he heard from his father about the eight assassinations of the Jūrokusha Alliance’s most powerful families. He stops when he gets to the list of victims, searching for Nishikido’s name.</p><p><strong> <em>Deceased</em></strong><em><br/>
</em><em>…<br/>
</em><em>Kotani Akira, aged 71 – Patriarch of the Kotani family, part of the Jūrokusha Alliance.<br/>
</em><em>Kotani Jun, aged 42 – Thought to be the next head of the Kotani family. Né Nishikido Jun.<br/>
</em><em>Kotani Kimiko, aged 39 – Daughter of Kotani Akira.<br/>
</em><em>Missing: Kotani Ryō, aged 16 – Son of Jun and Kimiko.<br/>
</em>…</p><p>That must be Nishikido. Looking down the list of the families, all the sons have gone missing. Someone has highlighted the names of each missing teen and written at the very bottom of the list, <em>Possibly together? Niijima Clan’s doing?</em></p><p>At the back of the file there is a document dated five years after the report. It seems someone tracked down the missing teens—now adults—and brought them in for questioning. However, as they had all turned twenty by then, they were beyond the reach of social services. <em>Brought in for questioning</em>, someone marked down next to six of the eight names. <em>Missing, whereabouts unknown</em>, they wrote down next to another. Next to Kotani Ryō’s, they wrote, <em>Trauma-induced mutism—see attached written testimony.</em></p><p>The next page is a photocopy of said testimony. Shige realizes it’s the first time he’s seen Nishikido’s handwriting, having communicated with him solely through messages and his phone. Each stroke is thick, as if he pressed down hard on the paper with the pen when he was writing.</p><p>The testimony is straightforward:</p><p><em>…I lived peacefully at the following address until I was nineteen…<br/>
</em> <em>…I did not see the person who killed my family…</em><br/>
<em>…I do not clearly remember the events of that night…<br/>
</em> <em>…I work part-time at a bar now…</em></p><p>Comparing Nishikido’s words with the notes on the six others that the police questioned, it seems that Takizawa and Jōshima had both been telling the truth. Patriarch Fujisaki, with no sons of his own, had indeed taken in the eight sons, though the police report doesn’t mention that it was as hostages. In fact, they all seemed happy about their lives after the fact, and were living fairly normally day-to-day, save for one detail—no one offered details about the murders of their parents.</p><p>In the end, Shige is left with fewer answers than he had hoped for. Closing the file, he struggles to connect the dots.</p><p>He has some details about Nishikido’s past now, but his decisions to work as Shige’s personal bodyguard and then to subsequently disappear without a trace still don’t make sense. Where could Nishikido have gone? He sent word to the Dōmotos to keep an eye out for Nishikido—having worked closely with Fujisaki, they knew him before he came to Tokyo—but there’s been no sign of him in Osaka, nor in Hiroshima. He can’t deny the possibility that Nishikido could indeed have wanted revenge and thus been the one who murdered the previous Chairmen, but then he should have finished the job with Shige as well.</p><p>Sighing, he unlocks his phone and goes to his messages. His last chat with Nishikido has been buried a bit since his last message a week ago, asking Nishikido for any sort of signal that he’s alive. Like all the messages prior, it is left unread.</p><p><em>Come on,</em> he thinks, <em>you told me to message you if I needed anything.</em></p><p>He tries again.</p><p>
  <em>Nishikido, I know more now, but it’s not enough. I want answers. Please.</em>
</p><p>And of course, there is no response.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In early October, Takizawa suggests having another family replace the Kamiya family in the Chairman election ritual. “We can’t keep putting it off,” he explains, “and Kamiya disgraced his own family and the Niijima Clan with his actions.”</p><p>“Tatsuhiko is still missing,” Shige responds hesitantly. “And there’s no telling the kind of scuffle that might arise if we select a certain family over another.”</p><p>“All that talk of breaking tradition by bringing women into the ceremony, and you’re suddenly unwilling to pick a replacement?” Takizawa sounds frustrated, and Shige doesn’t blame him. He knows he’s being difficult, but something gnaws at him to untangle the web of motivations that drove Kamiya to plan his own death. “Shigeaki, I know you want answers, but the Kamiya family has all but fallen apart, and the Ōoka family is willing to absorb the remaining members and take over their operations on Onomichi. I spoke with Ōoka Sonoko and she’s ready to send her son.”</p><p>Shige ignores him. “Any sign of Nishikido?”</p><p>“No,” Takizawa folds his hands in his lap. “I’ve reached out to the former members of the Fujisaki family—now under the Dōmoto family, as you know—but no one has seen or heard from Nishikido.”</p><p>“I see,” Shige checks his messages again: still no reply, still unread. “Why do you think he left?”</p><p>“It’s not my position to assume,” Takizawa responds. “I work only off of the information I have. Please don’t waste time playing detective, Shigeaki.”</p><p>“You said you knew he didn’t have any ill will towards me, but how do you know?”</p><p>Takizawa’s brow furrows. “He told me himself.”</p><p>“He could have been lying though. You believed him even though you knew he was the heir of the Kotani family?”</p><p>Takizawa holds up a hand and turns his head to the door. Shige hears rapidly approaching footsteps from beyond it.</p><p>Lieutenant Matsuoka bursts through the door, bowing deeply as he does. “Future Chairman, Patriarch Jōshima would like to speak with you,” he says, rising from his bow. “And Captain Takizawa as well.”</p><p>The look on Jōshima’s face as he approaches means that Shige doesn’t have much of a choice. Without even sitting down, Jōshima begins speaking as Matsuoka scrambles to close the door behind him.</p><p>“We’ve learned that the remaining eight families of the former Jūrokusha Alliance have been working together to regain their foothold in Osaka.”</p><p>“They’ve been powerless for nearly two decades,” Takizawa shrugs. “How far can they have come?”</p><p>Shige isn’t worried either—the Niijima Clan’s hold on Osaka and the surrounding area is strong—but Jōshima fixes them both with a stern look. “It appears that Kamiya was cooperating with them, embezzling Niijima funds to bolster their operations and, since the death of the former Chairman, sowing seeds of doubt in the leadership of your father, your uncle, and finally, you. There are enough minor subsidiary families in Osaka and Hiroshima that have felt neglected for a long time, and especially recently due to the many transfers of power and their lack of voice in the clan. Kamiya’s proposal to take the Niijima Clan down and reform the Jūrokusha Alliance was appealing, and only became more so in the last year.”</p><p>It takes Shige a minute to sort through all of the information Jōshima has thrown at him. “Kamiya’s betrayal wasn’t just his suicide,” he murmurs. “It started long before then. He killed himself and told Tatsuhiko to go into hiding in order to delay my ascendance to Chairman and keep the Niijima Clan without a formal leader for longer.”</p><p>Jōshima nods. “That’s what makes the most sense. The Jūrokusha Alliance have started actively pushing into the Dōmoto family’s territory—and with the support of the families who have decided to collaborate with the Jūrokusha, they might be more evenly matched than we expected.”</p><p>Shige feels dread rising within him. “We have another turf war on our hands.</p><p>“Exactly. Shigeaki, you have to approve the Ōoka family’s replacement of the Kamiya family in the ritual,” Takizawa urges him. “We’ll call another election ceremony this week and that should assuage some of the dissent born out of the instability of having no Chairman. We can handle the rest from there.</p><p>Shige looks between them. “But—”</p><p>Jōshima interrupts him. “There’s more information you should know,” he says, and pulls from his jacket a stack of photographs. “We found Nishikido.”</p><p>Shige can’t help himself; he reaches for the photos and shuffles through them. It’s Nishikido alright, caught on security cameras near what looks to be a back alley, then going into a building nearby. He doesn’t recognize the other men in the photograph. “What’s happening? Where is this?”</p><p>“He’s meeting with members of the Jūrokusha Alliance,” Jōshima responds, voice steady. “In Hiroshima.”</p><p>Shock registers before anything else. “It might not be what it looks like,” Shige mutters, more to himself than to the others in the room. “It might—”</p><p>“Wake up, Shigeaki!” Jōshima barks. Stunned, Shige looks up from the photos. “It’s clear that he’s defected, or that he’s been working with them all along. No matter how attached you became in your short time with him, we should count ourselves lucky that he didn’t try to murder you.”</p><p>Shige looks to Takizawa, who is uncharacteristically pale. “You said you only work off facts, Captain. What do these photos tell you?”</p><p>Takizawa shakes his head. “Only that we need to find him before it’s too late. Shigeaki, we need you to be a leader <em>now</em>. Approve the Ōoka family.</p><p>Overwhelmed, Shige is frozen. Jōshima places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, lightly, then turns to Takizawa.</p><p>“We’ll come back later this evening for your final decision. For now, I’ll send men to Hiroshima. Takizawa, send backup to the Dōmotos to help fend off the Jūrokusha.”</p><p>Takizawa looks exasperated, but nods in agreement. As both of the Captains move to depart, Jōshima turns back and at gazes at Shige, who is still studying the photographs in his hands. Stepping close, he grabs onto Shige’s shoulders.</p><p>Jōshima whispers, “I did some more digging, and learned that Nishikido became a hitman for the Fujisaki family shortly before old Fujisaki passed away. His work was quiet and clean, according to an old peer of his, but something changed a few years back and he stopped taking jobs. After wandering between Hiroshima and Osaka, he came to Takizawa five years ago asking for work directly under the Niijima family. It’s entirely possible that he made contact with the Jūrokusha in that time and came to Tokyo with ulterior motives. Takizawa isn’t a fool, but even he makes mistakes.”</p><p>Breath hitching at the unspoken accusation, Shige shakes his head. “No, he wouldn’t—”</p><p>Jōshima shakes him once, hard. “Use your brain, boy! Keep your guards close, and don’t go anywhere you don’t have to. And if Nishikido reappears, do not trust him.” He releases Shige’s shoulders and steps back, then leaves the room as quickly as he came.</p><p>Shige shivers and looks down at the photographs in his hands again. With this new information about Nishikido’s past and his renewed connection with the Jūrokusha Alliance, Nishikido was the most obvious culprit in the murders of the Niijima’s previous Chairmen. But he had so many chances to kill him, to leave the Niijima Clan without a leader permanently. Why didn’t he? The same old questions keep popping up, but without hearing from the man himself, he’s beginning to think he’ll never find the answer.</p><p>His phone buzzes on the table. When he looks at it a familiar name has popped up.</p><p><em>Let’s talk. 10pm at the Sumidagawa Tatsumi docks</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He approves the Ōoka family decision, if only to keep Takizawa and Jōshima from returning later that evening. Shige knows it’s a death sentence if his suspicions about Nishikido are wrong, but regardless, he slips out of the house unseen, catches a taxi to the southeast end of Tokyo, and walks the rest of the way to the docks where Nishikido told him to meet. There are shipping containers everywhere, and a few overnight workers moving things in and out on carts.</p><p>His phone buzzes. <em>Go toward the boat ramp by the warehouse</em>.</p><p>Shige goes where he’s commanded. He’s been here a few times, usually to check incoming shipments from abroad when he was younger, but can’t shake how exposed he feels as he moves past the dock workers who look at him questioningly.</p><p>His phone starts vibrating again—it’s an incoming call from Kawashima. Shit, they must have realized that he left the house. He presses ‘ignore’ and silences his phone</p><p>He finds Nishikido sitting in a parked car overlooking the water, solemnly staring out at the dark churning water. Nishikido must have noticed his approach, because the doors are unlocked. Shige slides into the passenger seat.</p><p>They sit for a while, unspeaking. Shige feels surprisingly calm considering all that he’s learned in the month and a half since Nishikido disappeared.</p><p>Finally, Nishikido moves his arm. Shige flinches on instinct, but Nishikido is just reaching for his phone on the dashboard. He types something into it, and the application begins speaking for Nishikido.</p><p>“It’s been a while.”</p><p>“It has,” Shige agrees, turning his head to look at Nishikido. The voice is as stiff as always, but it sounds familiar comforting after Nishikido’s absence. “I heard you’ve been in Hiroshima.”</p><p>Nishikido’s eyes are fixed on his phone. He nods, once, then begins typing something in his phone again. His fingers pause, and his brow furrows as he rapidly hits backspace. Finally, he exhales sharply and turns to meet Shige’s eyes. Perhaps because of the dim light, his features are sharper and bonier than Shige remembers—then again, he’s so used to looking at the back and sides of Nishikido’s head that he can’t remember the last time he looked at his face so closely. Maybe it was the day they met.</p><p>Shige feels simultaneously overwhelmed with relief and sorrow. He’s glad to see Nishikido again, but he’s also terrified. “Are you going to kill me?” he breathes, because he can’t help himself.</p><p>But Nishikido breaks his stare to rapidly shake his head.</p><p>“Did you kill my grandfather?”</p><p>Another shake of Nishikido’s head. He fumbles with his phone: “Nor your father, nor your uncle. I didn’t kill anyone in the Niijima Clan.”</p><p>Relief floods through Shige’s body. Nishikido could be lying, but Shige believes him. He relaxes into the seat beneath him, laughter bubbling over. “Thank god.”</p><p>“But I know who did.”</p><p>Shige’s laughter stops abruptly. “Was it the Jūrokusha Alliance? Or the Kamiya family?”</p><p>Nishikido nods. “Both,” he types.</p><p>“How did you find out? Tell me everything.”</p><p>Nishikido shifts uncomfortably, but his fingers move quickly over the screen. The sentences come out one by one, Nishikido typing the next sentence as his phone spits out the audio. “After you and Captain Jōshima left, I saw Kamiya arrive for the ceremony alone. I remembered his face from dealings in Osaka. It was suspicious because he is never alone. I remembered that a friend in Osaka had told me to watch out for the Jūrokusha Alliance’s return. He had also hinted that an old Niijima Clan family was turning ranks. I knew you would be safe at the ceremony. But I couldn’t say anything because Captain Jōshima was immediately suspicious of me, so no one there would probably believe me. So I decided to go to Osaka and investigate. It took a while, but I found out that the Jūrokusha and Kamiya family were conspiring together. They used intel Kamiya had from a long time ago to convince some other Niijima Clan families into joining them. They used Kamiya’s money to hire a hitman from the Seiryū Alliance. And then they killed the previous Chairmen. It sowed more disorder, which was good for them.”</p><p>Good, Shige thinks, it all makes sense. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going? Why didn’t you keep me updated?”</p><p>“The Jūrokusha had eyes on me as soon as I returned to Osaka. They knew I was working under you. They accosted me in Hiroshima. I convinced them that I was on their side through of my family ties. I can explain that later.”</p><p>“I know about that,” Shige responds. “I heard from Jōshima and Takizawa, plus I’ve been doing some of my own digging. Well, kind of—it’s been more like guessing at the connections and cursing you for not being there to fill in the gaps.”</p><p>Nishikido’s mouth turns upward into a grin. “Maybe you should have tried becoming a detective instead of going to law school.”</p><p>“But they bought it?” Shige chuckles. “I guess I don’t blame them. Jōshima was also convinced that you would want revenge on the family when he found out about your past, but I—”</p><p>“They asked me to kill you to prove it,” Nishikido’s phone says suddenly. Shige falls silent. “I won’t. I owe your grandfather my life.”</p><p>Shige thinks for a moment. “But I thought you and the other seven heirs were being held hostage after my family killed yours.”</p><p>“We were, for a time,” Nishikido answers. His face is solemn, backlit by the yellow floodlights of the parking lot. “Many of the major Niijima Clan families suggested that our family lines end with us. Kamiya suggested it first. He said to make a spectacle of us and intimidate the Jūrokusha Alliance into disappearing for good. But your grandfather said that we were sinless. He had the Fujisaki family take care of all of us.”</p><p>“‘Sinless,’” Shige murmurs to himself. The sentiment is certainly something that he would expect from his grandfather.</p><p>“I blamed him at first. He came to visit us sometimes. But it was weird. He was so sincere. He always apologized to me for taking away my parents and my speech.”</p><p>Ah, that’s it. “I’m sorry too.”</p><p>“Don’t be. You were a kid when it happened. If I was sinless then, then you were as well.”</p><p>“Why did you come back?” Shige finally asks. “If you’re not planning on killing me.”</p><p>It takes Nishikido a moment to respond. “Do you remember when you asked me what I would have been if not for joining the Niijima Clan?”</p><p>Shige nods. “You said you would have been a guitarist.”</p><p>“I was, for a bit, but there was something the still bothered me about the things that had happened. It’s hard to explain, but I thought that maybe psychologically, I felt that there was a debt to be repaid in return for my life. I ended up being drawn into the Niijima Clan willingly, under the Dōmoto family. They were suspicious when they learned who I was, but they eventually accepted me when they realized I didn’t want to harm the family.”</p><p>“I see.” Shige keeps his eyes fixed on Nishikido’s profile. His brow furrows more with each sentence.</p><p>“Eventually, I came to Tokyo, but Takizawa stopped me from trying to repay that debt immediately. He knew about my past and said it was suspicious if I tried to dive directly into your grandfather’s circle. I worked with him for a while doing protection work. Then your grandfather was murdered, and then your father, then your uncle. Takizawa offered me the opportunity to be your personal bodyguard.”</p><p>Nishikido’s story lines up perfectly with what Takizawa had told him earlier.</p><p>“I heard about the reappearance of the Jūrokusha Alliance around then. My friend was the heir of the Yokoyama family. He’s a private investigator now. The timing, the information, it all made sense. So I took up Takizawa’s offer to protect you. I wanted to repay this last debt and then leave the Niijima Clan, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to now.” Nishikido looks up from his phone suddenly, neck twisting back and forth as he reaches for the ignition.</p><p>“Wait, what do you mean by that?” Shige is so focused on Nishikido’s words that he doesn’t notice the shadows creeping up around the car.</p><p>It’s too late for both of them. The car doors on both sides are pulled open, and Shige sees hands grab Nishikido’s arm. Someone drags him out of the car, and then all he can see is the dark sky above and Kamiya Tatsuhiko’s sneering face before he’s smothered with a strong-smelling rag.</p><p>His consciousness quickly fades, but he manages to spare one last flash of worry for Nishikido as he blacks out.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He’s slapped awake. Slowly coming back to his senses, starting with the searing pain in his cheek, Shige realizes that he’s in a warehouse and tied to a chair. Turning his head to look around, he first sees the five or so men standing around him, then spots Nishikido tied to a chair on his right, slumped over as if he’s still unconscious.</p><p>Not for long, anyway, because Tatsuhiko slams his palm into Nishikido’s face as well, and Nishikido jerks awake in his chair. At the sight of Tatsuhiko, his eyes widen and he jerks forward in his chair, stopped only by the bindings on his arms and legs.</p><p>“Good morning,” Tatsuhiko smirks. “Stay put, I’ll be right back.”</p><p>He lumbers away. Shige sees a shining silver pistol tucked into his belt.</p><p>Quickly, he turns his head toward Nishikido, who is still glaring at Tatsuhiko’s back. He’s grimacing and bleeding at the corner of his mouth. Tatsuhiko hits hard; Shige remembers that much from his visits to Onomichi. He opens his mouth to speak and feels a stinging in the cheek where Tatsuhiko hit him. “Nishikido, are you alright?”</p><p>Nishikido nods and jerks violently in the chair. One of the men standing nearby laughs at the sight of Nishikido twisting in the chair, arms and legs immobilized.</p><p>Tatsuhiko is back, this time with a knife in one hand. “It’s been a while, Shigeaki. You’re all grown up now, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Where have you been?” Shige spits back.</p><p>Tatsuhiko spins the knife in his hand. “Here and there, waiting for the right opportunity to come pay you a visit. Heard your election came to a screeching halt. And now the Ōoka family is trying to take over the Kamiya family turf.” His expression darkens and he quickly steps forward, grabbing onto a fistful of Shige’s hair and pulling his neck backward. He places the knife right next to Shige’s neck. “You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think that we’re just going to give up our rank to some backwaters family who popped up in the nineties!”</p><p>Even as vulnerable as he is with Tatsuhiko breathing right into his face, Shige can’t help it. “I hear you didn’t even show up to your father’s funeral.”</p><p>“I had no choice!” Tatsuhiko screams, spittle flying everywhere. “I knew you would come looking for me as soon as the plan was hatched, so I hid out in Nagano until the Jūrokusha told me it was safe.”</p><p>“The plan? Your father’s plan to kill himself?”</p><p>Tatsuhiko’s breathing is rough, his face a bright red. He lets go of Shige’s hair and steps back, but keeps the tip of the knife pressed against Shige’s skin. “Takizawa and Jōshima pushed the ceremony forward. If you became the Chairman, all of our work would have been for nothing,” he snarls. “That’s what Dad said.”</p><p>“Why not kill me after the ceremony like you did the rest of them?” Shige is genuinely curious. If their plan was to keep the clan without a leader, then even if Shige ascended to the position of Chairman, his death would formally mean the end of the Niijima family and throw the entire clan into disorder. “It can’t have been that difficult.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Tatsuhiko spits. “Something about you being too charitable. You’d bow your head to even the smallest of clans if you knew they were upset about the state of things. All these petty, prideful families would scramble to fall in line after you if you boosted their egos a bit.”</p><p>Shige snorts. “Your father had a much more favorable view of me than I expected.”</p><p>“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter, because I’m the patriarch now.” Tatsuhiko wiggles the knife at Shige’s neck. “And it doesn’t matter to me if you live or die, but the Jūrokusha want you alive so they can kill you themselves.”</p><p>The knife is cold. “It’s not too late, Tatsuhiko-san. Your father and my grandfather were good friends, and I believe that their friendship is more important than whatever power the Jūrokusha is offering you.”</p><p>“Huh?!” Tatsuhiko is enraged, grabbing onto Shige’s neck with his hand. “Friendship?! Your grandfather left us to rot on a tiny island, shaking down fishermen and tourists for chump change! He should have brought us to Tokyo, but he didn’t want to share the profits!”</p><p>Shige wants to protest but knows that if he says the real reason, Tatsuhiko is liable to wring his neck.</p><p>There’s a loud crash sound from next to them. Nishikido is toppled over, still tied to his chair. He must have struggled against the ties too hard in one direction</p><p>Tatsuhiko laughs at the sight. “And you, the sad, dumb prince of the Kotani family. You really thought that no one would see through your piss-poor acting? The Jūrokusha have been watching you for <em>years</em>. They know everything you’ve done for the clan that killed your family.”</p><p>Nishikido looks positively murderous. Tatsuhiko moves away from Shige and stoops down to press the knife under Nishikido’s chin.</p><p>“Oops, don’t move now, or you might cut yourself. I will say though, you haven’t changed,” Tatsuhiko says, eyes fixed on Nishikido. “You had the same look in your eyes twenty years ago when I had the privilege of killing your father.”</p><p>That’s new information. “You assassinated Kotani Jun and his family?”</p><p>Tatsuhiko turns his head to look at Shige. “Yeah. And then just as expected, your family took all the credit.”</p><p>“What does that mean?”</p><p>Tatsuhiko grins and points the knife up at Shige. As he stands, he brings Nishikido and his chair back to an upright position, ruffling Nishikido’s hair as he does. “You all thought you knew everything about the turf war in Osaka,” he smirks, “but you don’t even know the half of it. Dad and the Jūrokusha had been collaborating since the early nineties to pull down the Niijima Clan. But half of the Jūrokusha were unwilling to upset the balance when it came time to start moving in on Niijima territory, so he and the other half decided to pin it on the Niijima family.”</p><p>“But I heard that my grandfather ordered the assassinations,” Shige counters. “You’re saying that Kamiya tricked him into doing so?”</p><p>“No, he was so fixated on the idea of friendship that when Dad told him he had ordered the hits, old man Niijima called an emergency meeting and pretended it was his own decision! All to protect someone who never had his best interests in mind to begin with!” Tatsuhiko howls with laughter. “And so all the remaining Jūrokusha had to do was stay in hiding for a bit while the Niijima Clan rushed to cover its own ass. But on the underside, a few rumors here, a whisper there—and suddenly, your network of faithful families outside of Tokyo would be teetering on the brink of betrayal.”</p><p>The pieces have all come together, Shige realizes. The assassinations of his own family, the Kamiya family’s long-seated animosity, and the Jūrokusha Alliance’s sudden resurgence. And then there’s Nishikido, who continues to strain against his bonds like a madman, all to get at Kamiya Tatsuhiko, the murderer of his family.</p><p>“Is it true?” Shige directs this at Nishikido. “He was the one who killed your family? You saw him?”</p><p>Nishikido nods, glowering. Tatsuhiko only looks amused.</p><p>“You should have seen him then,” Tatsuhiko reaches out a hand and ruffles Nishikido’s hair again. “He was so small and cute when he was a teenager. Now he’s big—well, kind of—and scary. I would have killed you when I had the chance, if not for mean old Niijima.”</p><p>Nishikido lunges forward, but Tatsuhiko catches him with a palm on his face and pushes him backward.</p><p>“You have something to say? Say it!” he taunts Nishikido.</p><p>“Stop!” Shige shouts. “Did you bring us here to listen to your little tirade?”</p><p>“The Jūrokusha are on their way,” Tatsuhiko snaps.</p><p>“You said the Jūrokusha after me, not Nishikido. Let him go.”</p><p>Tatsuhiko seems to ponder it for a minute. “That certainly would be interesting. The rest of the Niijima Clan is suspicious of him and the police won’t believe him—how long would it take for someone to come find you even if he told them about everything?”</p><p>“Untie him, let him go, and then I’ll go with you willingly.” Tatsuhiko’s done the thinking for him—it’s worth a shot.</p><p>But Tatsuhiko doesn’t bite. “You don’t have a choice!” He pulls the pistol from his belt and brandishes it at Shige. “I could shoot him right here, right now, and no one would give a fuck!”</p><p>Shige freezes at the sight of the gun. Did he say too much? If Nishikido dies here, it will have been his fault for attempting to negotiate with Tatsuhiko, who seems beyond reason. “Please,” he tries again. “Don’t.”</p><p>There’s a loud metallic bang and the sound of heavy footsteps. Everyone around them starts, heads twisting around to see what’s going on. Shige sees tens of men clad in black uniforms pouring in from the open side door and the walkways, carrying heavy shields and batons.</p><p>“What the hell,” Tatsuhiko breathes.</p><p>The police force press in on them, slowly advancing. Shige can’t see beyond them, but he hears a voice over a megaphone, loud and clear.</p><p>“This is the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force. Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air. I repeat, drop your weapons and put your hands in the air.”</p><p>The Kamiya family men around them are murmuring. Tatsuhiko yells, “Why the hell are the cops here?!”</p><p>“I repeat, drop your weapons and put your hands in the air.” Shige knows that voice—it’s Masuda. How did he know they were here?</p><p>The other men have complied with Masuda’s order, now on their knees with their hands raised above their heads, but Tatsuhiko’s face is bright red and livid as he stands with his gun drawn.</p><p>“I repeat, drop your weapons and put your hands in the air. Comply, or we will use force.”</p><p>“Who snitched? Did you set me up?” Tatsuhiko points the gun at Shige. “Or you?” He turns it to Nishikido. “You fucking bastards, I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you both!” he screams, and as if in slow motion, Shige watches as his finger squeezes the trigger.</p><p>There are a smattering of gunshots. Tatsuhiko’s body falls limp to the floor, and Nishikido jerks in his chair. The police swarm in, arresting the five yakuza who complied and turning Tatsuhiko’s body over. He’s been shot in the shoulder and the leg, but he’s alive, screaming in agony.</p><p>But Shige is fixed on Nishikido, who is wide-eyed in shock, staring down at the right side of his abdomen where red is quickly staining his white shirt. And before Shige can say anything, the police block his vision.</p><p>“Medic!” someone shouts, and everything is ringing in the hollows of his ears—Tatsuhiko’s screams, the police’s overlapping words, and the knowledge that Nishikido has been shot.</p><p>Even after he’s untied, Shige watches Nishikido and Tatsuhiko get carried out on stretchers, Tatsuhiko still howling and Nishikido having lost consciousness. Masuda places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing as he looks helplessly after the ambulances that leave.</p><p>“Come with me to the station,” Masuda murmurs. “We’ve got to pretend we don’t know each other.”</p><p>“Yes,” Shige replies solemnly, mustering every ounce of calm that he can. “Which hospital did they go to?”</p><p>“I’ll take you there afterward,” Masuda replies. Then, in a louder voice, he says, “You’re lucky, sir. Someone tipped us off that there might be an attempted kidnapping and murder in this area. Who knew the yakuza would be involved?”</p><p>“Detective Masuda,” Masuda’s partner approaches to admonish him. “Weren’t you at the organized crime brief last week? This is the new Chairman of the Niijima Clan.”</p><p>“Oh, is that so?” Masuda pretends to look horrified. “My apologies. But we’ll still need you to come with us to the station, Niijima-san.”</p><p>“Katō,” Shige responds. “My name is Katō.”</p><p>“Sounds complicated,” Masuda rubs the back of his head. “Well, you’re not under arrest, but we still need your testimony. Please ride with me to the station. Nakamaru, I’ll leave this to you and see you back at the station?”</p><p>“Ugh, you always leave me with the messes. Fine,” Detective Nakamaru sighs, and wanders off.</p><p>Shige realizes that Kamiya had only moved them into a warehouse close to where Nishikido’s car had been parked as he follows Masuda outside and to his car. As they drive through the nearly-empty lot, Shige speaks, “You’re fine splitting off from your partner like that? Seems the Shinjuku Police Department’s not very strict.”</p><p>“Yeah, both of us need our alone time, so we split up duties a lot,” Masuda responds, pulling onto the road. “If you’re good at your job, no one questions it.”</p><p>“He doesn’t know about your relationship with us?</p><p>“Nope!” Masuda grins. “It’s been surprisingly easy to hide it—Nakamaru’s really smart, but sometimes he’s off in his own world.”</p><p>They drive in silence for a while, Masuda humming as they speed down the highway toward Shinjuku.</p><p>“How did you know?” Shige finally asks.</p><p>“GPS,” Masuda responds. “Prosecutor Koyama called us in a panic, telling me that he received an anonymous letter at home with information about a planned kidnapping and information about a cellular device that would be on-site. When we got it, it was already late—we arrived right as the signal disappeared into the building and kept watch for a bit to scope out the situation. Lucky we barged in when we did.”</p><p>“I see.” Shige still feels numb at the edges, but deep down his worry for Nishikido is beginning to break to the surface. “I’m sorry, can you take me to the hospital first? I’ll answer any questions you have later.”</p><p>“You’re worried about them?”</p><p>“Just one of them.”</p><p>Masuda sighs. “There’s no use going and waiting. Both of them will be in surgery for a while. Send your least yakuza-looking man to the Shōwa University Toyosu Hospital to check up on them.”</p><p>Shige presses down on the anxiety welling up. “Got it,” he responds.</p><p>He thinks to check his phone at last. It’s full of calls and text messages asking for, then demanding his location. He messages Kawashima and Miyachika that he’s fine, and to send Shimekake to the hospital Masuda mentioned and look for Nishikido.</p><p>“It’s a good thing you showed up,” Shige says to Masuda as they pass the Shinjuku Gyōen gardens. “Lucky for me.”</p><p>Masuda chuckles. “Koyama called my personal cell to let me know about the letter before reporting it to the police.”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>Masuda shrugs. “Turns out the anonymous letter mentioned you by name. Whoever put it together knew you and he are well-acquainted. Koyama’s panic was real, though, and everyone thought he was just worried that the yakuza were going to come after him for putting away some people earlier this year.”</p><p>“His panic is pretty one-note,” Shige manages to laugh. His cell buzzes—it’s Jōshima, asking for updates. He ignores it.</p><p>Masuda pulls into one of the parking spaces to the side of the Shinjuku Metropolitan Police Station and announces cheerily that they’ve arrived.</p><p>As he steps out of Masuda’s car, Shige stares up at the building and its tiny, brightly-lit windows dotting the building’s exterior. The west Shinjuku skyscrapers frame the building, hotels and restaurants and all manner of businesses. The city, despite the late hour, is still bustling around them.</p><p>For the first time in a while, Shige feels like he has almost all the answers he’s been looking for. He’s surprised by how calm he feels considering the final question left is whether or not Nishikido will survive.</p><p>But that, like much else in the world, is out of his hands now. He follows Masuda into the building.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Nishikido, as it turns out, is fine. The bullet passed cleanly through the skin and lodged itself above his right hip, miraculously missing any vital organs. It’s like something out of a late-night crime drama, Shige thinks when he hears the news, but he’ll take it to the alternative. Masuda makes questioning quick and simple, and after filling out a few forms, he’s able to return home.</p><p>No one dares ask questions, though he does stop to call Takizawa before falling into a restless slumber. The next day, Shige makes his way to the hospital after he gets the update that Nishikido has woken up from the anesthetic.</p><p>“Thank you,” is the first thing he says when Nishikido spots him. “For everything.” He lowers his head and stays in that position for a minute.</p><p>In response, Nishikido rolls his eyes. He reaches for the pen and paper next to him and weakly scrawls out an admonishment. <em>Don’t you dare bow.</em></p><p>Shige laughs when he reads it. “Sorry,” he responds, and takes a seat next to the bed. Nishikido looks surprisingly small in the bed, pale and tired. “Don’t push yourself. I guess you can’t use your phone in the hospital?”</p><p>Nishikido shakes his head. <em>The police have it as evidence.</em></p><p>“Oh,” Shige frowns. “Are you… is that going to be okay?”</p><p><em>It’s a burner</em>.</p><p>“Did you send the letter to Koyama?” Shige asks, turning to look at Nishikido.</p><p>
  <em>It was the phone they used to find us.</em>
</p><p>“You used me as bait to lure Kamiya out of hiding and set it up so that the police would arrest him for kidnapping?”</p><p>Nishikido nods, brow crinkling. He picks up the pencil again, but Shige shakes his head.</p><p>“No, I understand why. It was well-orchestrated, except for the part where you got shot.”</p><p>Nishikido’s face breaks out into a weak grin, and Shige can’t help but smile back. Nishikido reaches to his chest, wincing slightly, and taps on the left side of his chest where he usually keeps his phone.</p><p>Shige knows what that means. Nishikido looks exhausted, and Shige should let him rest. “I’ll send you a new phone soon,” he says, standing up. Nishikido is already slipping into sleep as Shige looks back on his way out the door.</p><p>As expected, Nishikido will be stuck in the hospital for weeks. Shige finds himself occupied with the task of untangling the complicated story for the other main Niijima Clan families in order to figure out how to deal with the Osaka and Hiroshima families who have been collaborating with the Jūrokusha. Some insist on making an example out of them, but Shige shakes his head.</p><p>He heads to Osaka and Hiroshima, where he tries to meet with each individual family and, making it clear he has no intent to retaliate against them, hears their complaints and reasons for working with the Jūrokusha. He offers them freedom—to leave the Niijima Clan without animosity from the main branch. Almost none of them take it. “You’re different from your grandfather,” one aged patriarch says to him. “Maybe we can trust you to think of us once in a while.”</p><p>In the meantime, Kamiya Tatsuhiko mysteriously disappears from the hospital before he is set to be transferred into a room in the police hospital where his arraignment procedures will begin. Security camera footage from the hospital shows him being unceremoniously shoved into a wheelchair and carried out by a group of men, but he vanishes without a trace. At least that’s what Masuda reports to him.</p><p>Takizawa looks genuinely confused when Shige asks if he knows anything about it. “No,” he responds, smoothing out his jacket. “But I wonder if he’ll turn up again someday.”</p><p>Then there’s the election ceremony. This time, it goes off without a hitch, and Shige emerges from the room officially the fifth Chairman of the Niijima Clan. He doesn’t feel relief, though, only an even greater sense of responsibility when he shakes the hand of each and every representative there, as well as thinking about the subsidiary families in Osaka and Hiroshima who have decided to remain with the clan.</p><p>First things first. He works with Ohno family, the Dōmotos, and the Yabu and Yamada families in Hiroshima to figure out a redistribution of resources for the smaller families. None of them look particularly happy at the idea, but Shige argues that the clan’s size is only for show if subsidiary families are on the edge of breaking away due to neglect.</p><p>“Time will tell,” Matsumoto says, folding his hands in his lap. “We’ll give it a shot.”</p><p>Then he starts adjusting the election ceremony in two ways: first, the traditional one hundred and twenty-eight families will be drawn by lotto rather than allowing the current hierarchy of power to continue unabashedly; second, he rules to allow women to participate as well. There are some grumblings among the traditionalists, but even Takizawa can’t protest because Shige’s not doing it for himself.</p><p>Finally, weeks later, he’s able to make his way back to Nishikido’s hospital room, where Nishikido is looking much healthier. A small man in tinted glasses rises from his chair when Shige enters the room, bowing a few times.</p><p>“Hello,” Shige greets the man.</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” the man responds. “You must be Katō-san. Thank you for taking care of Ryō.”</p><p>Shige raises an eyebrow. “And you are…?”</p><p>“Yasuda,” the man responds. “You might know me, I guess. Or, maybe your family does? Ah—”</p><p>Nishikido’s phone speaks. “The Yasuda family, formerly of the Jūrokusha. Yasu and I were both raised by Fujisaki.”</p><p>“Oh,” Shige nods. “I see. I’m sorry for what my family did.”</p><p>“No, no!” Yasuda protests, raising his hands. “I mean, yeah, it was terrible, but Ryō told me that it wasn’t your grandfather who ordered the hit at all. Apparently it was the Kamiya family and the rest of the Jūrokusha?”</p><p>“It’s complicated, but that seems to be the gist of it,” Shige replies. “It still can’t be easy to look at the grandson of the man who you thought had your family killed.”</p><p>Yasuda shakes his head. “There’s no need to talk about it anymore. I don’t get involved in yakuza stuff,” he says. “I just want to live my life away from all of this.”</p><p>“Then don’t come visit,” Nishikido’s phone says in a monotone.</p><p>“Coming to see my friend who just happens to be in the yakuza is different!” Yasuda protests loudly. Shige winces at the volume of Yasuda’s voice, as does Nishikido. “Oops, this is a hospital,” Yasuda whispers once he realizes. “Sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Nishikido’s phone intones. Nishikido gives Yasuda a meaningful look, then shows him the time on the lockscreen of his phone.</p><p>“Crap, my record meeting!” Yasuda yelps. “I’ll come visit again before I head back to Osaka,” he says, scrambling to gather this things. “See you, Ryō! And nice to meet you, Katō-san.”</p><p>Then he disappears out the door, leaving Shige and Nishikido in the room together.</p><p>“No guards today?”</p><p>“They’re standing outside,” Shige explains, taking a seat next to the bed. “You look better.”</p><p>“Being fresh out of surgery sucks.”</p><p>Shige can’t argue with that. “You know, a lot has happened since I last saw you. I’m Chairman now, officially. I’ve been working to try and listen more to the voices of the smaller families and hear what their plans are rather than ignoring their ideas. I think that’s ultimately what drove Kamiya to concoct his plan in the first place too, even though my grandfather thought he was doing what would bring them the most stability.”</p><p>“He was still shitty,” Nishikido types on his phone. “And so was his son.”</p><p>“I know,” Shige nods. “I wish I had known all the details sooner, so none of this would have happened. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t know. It all started before either of us were capable of understanding what our families were involved in.”</p><p>“That’s true,” Shige acquiesces. “But now that I’m the Chairman, I have to play the role I’ve been given. That means I’m stuck here, but I’m going to try and prevent this kind of thing from happening again. And then my successor, whoever they are, will hopefully carry down the same ideals.”</p><p>“What’s with the speech? It’s the yakuza.” Nishikido is grinning. “Not a primetime drama. You’re thinking too far ahead.”</p><p>“Speaking of what’s ahead, the question remains, what do I do with you?” Shige muses. Nishikido’s head snaps up to stare at him, confused. “After all that’s happened, I’m not sure I want you to be my bodyguard anymore. After all, you might just disappear again without a word.”</p><p>“I had a reason,” Nishikido hastily types into his phone.</p><p>“I know,” Shige smiles. “And you’ve saved my life more than once. Your debt—the thing that you thought led you to the Niijima Clan—I think it’s been repaid in full. I’ll leave the choice with you.”</p><p>He pulls from his jacket an envelope, slightly crinkled at one corner from being transported in his pocket. He lays it on the bed atop Nishikido’s lap so he can see the large characters written across the front.</p><p><em>Letter of Expulsion</em>, it reads.</p><p>Nishikido stares at it in shock, then starts glancing back and forth between Shige and the letter. He fumbles with his phone, drops it, picks it back up, then looks up again in disbelief.</p><p>“Why?” he manages to type.</p><p>“You said in the car that you weren’t sure if you would be able to leave the Niijima Clan even after repaying your debt,” Shige explains. Nishikido blinks, as if slowly remembering. “But there’s nothing good here for you, for me, for anyone. You have the chance to leave, to live a full life, far away from all of this. It’s your choice. You’re welcome to stay in the clan and serve as my bodyguard once you’re fully recovered, or you can choose to leave the clan and we’ll see to it that you have financial support and protection until you’re safe and stable. No one in the Jūrokusha or the Niijima Clan will touch you.”</p><p>Nishikido holds the letter, turns it over in his palm as if examining it for a catch. He reaches for the phone again. “What will you do?”</p><p>Shige laughs. “I’ll be fine, either way. I’ve got the whole Niijima Clan to protect me even without you.”</p><p>“I pity the underling who has to deal with your horrible imposter syndrome.” Nishikido smirks at him.</p><p>“Shut up, I’m working on it,” Shige scoffs. A beat, then he continues: “You’re free if you want to be, Nishikido. You could be a guitarist in an underground rock band and brag about the time you got shot protecting a mob boss.”</p><p>Nishikido chuckles. “I’ll think about it,” he types into his phone, though his eyes are bright and lively in a way that Shige doesn’t think he’s seen before this. The choice is up to Nishikido, but Shige has a feeling which path the man will end up picking.</p><p>As much as it breaks his heart, he steels himself for the likelihood that this will be the last time he sees Nishikido. While Nishikido is still turning the letter over in his hands, he reaches out a hand to squeeze Nishikido’s shoulder, the warmth of Nishikido’s skin radiating through the hospital gown. “We’re still alive,” he murmurs.</p><p>Nishikido lifts his own hand and places it atop Shige’s. Nishikido’s fingers tighten slightly as he turns his head to make eye contact with Shige. Nishikido nods firmly, once, fixing Shige with a look that brings him all the way back to that first rainy June day that they met, Nishikido scowling and Shige bumbling through the interaction. The last four and a half months have felt like a year, but for the first time since his father died, Shige feels like he has control over the situation.</p><p>Shige breaks away, mumbling an excuse about having to head back to headquarters for a meeting, and says goodbye to Nishikido as if he’ll be back soon.</p><p>Nishikido just nods, taps on his phone out of habit. Like it’s ingrained in him, Shige nods automatically in response. This time, he’s the one to leave.</p><p>The hospital hallway feels like it goes on forever as Shige makes his way down it, his usual guards flanking him on either side. A nurse heading down the opposite way avoids eye contact even as he smiles and nods to her, rushing past him with a squeak. Shige can’t help but chuckle; he supposes that he’s finally starting to look the part of Chairman.</p><p>Shige is acutely aware that he’s walking a path of no return, but even if his decisions take him straight to hell, he’ll struggle the entire way down to make the Niijima Clan better. At least he’s still alive, he reaffirms to himself.</p><p>At least they’re still alive.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Clearly the plot got away from me, and therefore also from the prompt. Also, this is absolutely loaded with inaccuracies because I know nothing about organized crime in Japan beyond the Yakuza game series, and even then it’s the shallowest grasp I can have while tearing up the streets of Kamurochō. Happy holidays!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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